Vivienne
Roman tossed the paper back onto the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at me as if I were a child who didn't understand how the world worked.
"It's business, Vivienne," he said simply. "The company is developing that entire sector, and that is a multi-million dollar project that will revitalize the project I just got. That land is prime real estate, and it's wasted on a crumbling building."
"Wasted?" I repeated after him. "That crumbling building is an orphanage. It's the only home those children have. It's the only one I ever had before I came here, so why should it be called a waste?"
"The company will be compensating them for their loss," Roman continued, as if he were reading his words from a brochure. "It's not like they would live on the street. They will be given a fair market payout to relocate."
"That is not the point!" I screamed, the sound resounding off the book-lined walls. "You knew, Roman. You knew I grew up there, and you knew Sister Martha was like a mother to me, yet you ignored her pleas and the meetings she wanted with you. How could you not say a word to me?" I demanded, slamming my hands on the table. "Does my life mean so little to you that you can just erase my history for a luxury development?"
Roman didn't flinch. He just stared at me with his green eyes, looking like I was a liability he was tired of managing.
"You are a coward, Roman," I spat angrily, the words fueled by a lifetime of suppressed pain I held inside. "You are a pathetic, heartless monster who would step on the necks of children just to stand an inch taller! How could you not have any remorse? All because you gained some wealth and—"
The words barely left my lips when the world suddenly exploded in a flash of white light.
Roman had slapped me so hard my head snapped to the side.
Bells rang in my ears for a moment, and the metallic taste of blood immediately filled my mouth.
I stumbled back, the shock paralyzing my lungs. This was the first time he had ever raised his hand to me. The man who used to treat me kindly had just struck me with the palm of his hand.
I looked up, waiting for the horror on his face. I waited for him to apologize, but it never came. Instead, Roman stepped forward, his face twisted in a mask of pure loathing. He reached out and gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin so hard I knew they would leave bruises.
"Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?" he yelled directly into my face, his breath hot against my skin. "Have you forgotten who saved you? Have you forgotten that you are only breathing because I gave you my kidney? Without me, you would be dead in some gutter, Vivienne. You owe me your life! And you should be grateful for every breath I allow you to take in this house!"
_
The blue metal box slipped from my trembling hands, hitting the floor with a loud sound. The lid popped open, and its contents—old letters, a tarnished locket, and faded documents—spilled across the carpet.
Roman didn't even look down. He grabbed the manila envelope from the desk and threw it at me. The sharp edge of the paper grazed my cheek before falling onto the floor.
"It is already done, and there is no changing it," he hissed, releasing me with a shove that sent me stumbling backward. "Now get the hell out of my room!" he ordered.
I didn't say a word. I couldn't. This wasn't the reaction that I expected from him. I dropped to my knees instead, tears welling up in my vision as I scrambled to gather the items back into the blue box with shaking fingers. Every sob felt like it was tearing my chest apart. I clutched the box to my chest and stood up, but then paused and faced him.
"I am going to make sure that I do everything to save that building, and that means if I have to go against you."
"Go against me? What the hell do you mean?"
I sniffled and turned my back on him as I spoke. "You know what I can do, Roman. I helped build everything, and now I can destroy it in the blink of an eye," I threatened and turned to leave the room without saying anything else or waiting for whatever he had to say.
I rushed down the hallway towards our bedroom, and just as I was about to reach the room, I saw Cassandra leaning against the wall close to the staircase. Her arms were crossed, and she wore a smug, knowing look on her face, as if she had heard every word.
"So, the 'genius' is finally out of the office?" She drawled, blocking my path for a second. "What's for dinner, Vivienne? I am starving."
I didn't even look at her. How dare she ask such a thing of me? Without a word, I pushed past, my feet moving as fast as they could toward the stairs.
"Whatever," Cassandra shouted after me, her voice dripping with venom. "I don't want to eat your dead-person food anyway! Go to hell!"
I reached the bedroom and slammed the door, locking it with a trembling hand. I collapsed against the wood, sliding down to the floor. I pulled the manila envelope to my chest, gripping it so hard the paper wrinkled and tore under my fingernails. I burst into a fit of racking sobs, my heart pounding hard with every scream.
How could this be? Why the hell do those innocent children have to suffer? I thought as I brushed my hand through my hair. I stayed like that for a moment and then rubbed a hand on my face, feeling the cheek where Roman had hit me. Never did I expect that he would ever hit me.
"He is a monster," I muttered and looked at the box laying on the ground beside me. I opened it, and the first thing I touched was a silver locket. It was tarnished with age yet still looked good. I rubbed my thumb over the surface, staring at the single letter emerging from the grime. My fingers trembled as I held the locket, fumbling with the tiny latch on the side—a seam so fine it was almost invisible to the naked eye.
After a few trials, it finally opened, and inside, protected by a thin layer of yellowed glass, was a miniature photograph. It was old and slightly faded at the edges, but the faces were clear enough to pierce through my heart. It was a man and a woman. The woman was breathtaking, having the same olive skin and high cheekbones I saw in the mirror every morning. The man beside her had his arm wrapped around her waist, looking at her with protective, deep devotion. He was dressed in a suit that made Roman's most expensive tuxedo look like a cheap imitation.
And in the woman's arms was a baby. The infant was swaddled in silk, wearing a tiny silver chain—the very same locket I was holding in my hand.
I already knew who she was. The baby was me, and they were my parents.
I looked closer at the man's lapel in the photo, and there, pinned to his suit, was a small gold emblem. A small V-shape.
Who were my parents, and if they were alive, why didn't they find me? Why didn't Sister Martha show me this locket for years?
I clutched the locket shut, pressing it against the hollow of my throat. The letter engraved on the outside was probably where Sister Martha had chosen my name from.
"I am not a nobody," I muttered and then sniffled as I looked back into the box at a stack of yellowed envelopes, all addressed to me in Sister Martha's elegant, familiar handwriting. I opened the first one and began to read.
'My dearest Vivienne, if you are reading this, it means that I am no longer in this world. I am sorry I couldn't be there forever to protect you. I truly wanted to, but my time came quickly. You might have seen the locket; I didn't hide it from you. I only found it after I lost it years ago, and I hope with it you will be able to find your real family.'
I choked on a sob as I finished reading the first letter and then moved on to the second.
'You are a good child, Vivienne, and when I first saw you years ago, I knew that you were destined for greatness. I saved you from the scene of an accident, even though I had no idea where you came from or what name you truly bear. I just gave you 'Vivienne' based on the V on the locket, and it seemed to fit.'
By the time I finished reading the second letter, my tears were blurring my vision.
'Your family didn't abandon you. They just never knew you were alive, and I hope you find them. Please, my child, I hand over the care of the orphanage to you. Do not let them destroy it. That place is a home for lots of kids who found themselves as you did, and I want it to remain that way. I hope you will always be happy forever, and I am sorry for not telling you about my sickness; I didn't want to bother you. Be happy, and may the Lord be with you.
—
Martha,
Hope Orphanage.'
The tears rushed out, and I held the paper tighter to my chest and sobbed hard as I rocked back and forth on the floor.
"What should I do, Sister Martha?" I whispered into the empty room, my voice disappearing into the shadows. "How can I help everyone?"